Project: Cougar
by Writer'sBlock-cdjsa
Summary: When Wolverine escaped from the horrific Alkali base, he thought he'd escaped for good. But when a new, mysterious woman appears, mysifying him in ways he'd never thought possible, trouble starts brewing. Could there be more to her than it seems? R&R!
1. King of the Kage

Note: this is my first X-men fanfic, so constructive critisism is crucial! Please review, so I know if I'm doing anything wrong

**Chapter 1**

I loved this motorcycle.

Actually, I loved all motorcycles. Whether it was the roar of the engine, or the power it admitted, or if it was simply the rush of raw adrenaline I got from riding them, a bike was all I needed. As I cruised down the highway, the engine exhaust fumigating the air, I felt free, and I loved freedom.

At this point, unfortunetly, my freedom was running out.

I stared angrily at the gas gauge, which was hovering much too close to E. That was the only thing about motorcycles, that they needed gas. I couldn't remember to fill the tank for the life of me, and this wasn't the first time I had been stranded because I ran out of gas. I looked around for a place to park before my bike stopped in the middle of this speeding highway. Unfortunetly, the only place I could see under the dim steet lights was a beat-up bar with flashing neon lights pronouncing:

"LIME LIGHT BAR: HOME TO KING OF THE KAGE"

I grimaced. I hated bars like these. Their were always drunks and barfly pick-up artists, not to mention the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, beer, sweat and tobacco. I checked the gas gauge one more time, praying to have enough gas to find somewhere else to park, but the stupid thing stayed adamantly on E. I swore at the bike, but defeated, pulled into the parking lot.

I started up the steps, but paused at the door. I tested the air, just to make sure their wasn't any cocaine. I can handle drunks, but I have no patience when it comes to potheads. I couldn't smell any, just the usual smoke and sweat. I sighed and adjusted the bandana I wore over my waist length chestnut hair.

I pushed open the dented door, and stepped into the bar. The smell burnt my nose, it was so strong. I heard a few wolf whistles, and a couple morons make a few idiotic lewd comments. Luckily though, most of the drunks were gathered around a large, wire mesh cage in the corner of the bar. I heard a gong, and the sound of cheers and punches. Just because I was getting ticked off, I made a silent prayer that one of those cage fighters recieved a painful trip to the emergency room after the fight.

I stepped up to the actual bar, where a woman bartender with way too much make-up and way too little clothes was cleaning shot glasses. She noticed me, and set down the last glass.

"Whaddya want?" she asked. I looked up at the shelves behind her where she kept her liquor. There wasn't much choice.

"Just a beer." I replied.

"Corona or Bud?" she asked, walking over to the shelves.

I didn't really care. "Surprise me." I told her. She slid a Bud Light over to me, which I took, but didn't drink. "Listen," I told her, " do you know where I can get gas?" She paused for a minute to think.

"Well...there's gas station 'bout ten miles down the road. Can ya get that far?" she asked. I thought about the empty tank.

"Probably not." I admitted. She pursed her lipsticked lips in thought.

"Tell ya what, hon. Management back there probably has some gas cans in the shed, but he might not be too keen to sellin' them. I can ask for ya...that okay?" she offered. I thought about this. Begging a sleazy bar owner might not be the best way to get some gas,...but at this point it seemed the only way.

"Sure." As she left, I checked the wallet I kept in the back pocket of my beat up jeans. I had about thirty dollars, enough for gas. I stuffed the wallet back into my back pocket and leaned against the bar. It was stiflingly hot in here, probably so the patrons would buy some ice-cold brandy. I turned, but slashed my arm on a nail jutting out of the bar. I bit my lip, and looked around, hoping no one noticed my arm slowly heal itself back together. I heard another gong, and another cheer erupting from the crowd around the cage. Interested, and now sure that no one had seen me heal, I tested the air again.

The guys who had made the wolf whistle were drinking hard rum, one of them smoking a cigar. A couple of card sharks only a few feet away were wearing a disgusting cologne. My hightened sensing of sound let me hear one of them pull a card from their sleeve. I smirked. There was another cheer from the cage's crowd, and I turned my attention to them. Apparently the match-of-the-century had just ended, because the crowd was separating. I caught the sent of the cage fighters as they left.

The first one was disgusting. He smelled like Vodka, and the sent of his sweat was enough to cause my gag reflex to go berserk. I heard a small crunch, and smirked again once I was done retching. Broken bones. As he headed out the door, I turned my attention to the second. Unlike the first, this one actually smelled enticing... and strangely familiar. He smelled like sweat too, but not at all like the slimeball who I took a whiff of first. The sweat that came off him was actually attractive, masculine. Behind the sweat was another smell,... something woody. Once again, I registered it as strangely familiar.

Apparently he hadn't sustained any major injuries, because he went to the bar where I was like the rest of men who were in the crowd. Once he was in the light, I felt gut turn to jelly. He was gorgeous.

He was wearing beat up jeans like mine, only his accentuated his muscles. He was wearing a tan leather belt with a bronze belt buckle, and he had an old cotton tank top, torn from the fight. My chin seemed to tremble, no doubt from the peek into his chistled chest. His arms were as strong as the rest of him. I slowly raised my eyes to his face, and was nearly knocked off my feet.

He had his dark, almost black hair swept up in a feral look, and his sideburns only accentuated this. His sensuous lips were around a thick cigar, clenched between his perfect white teeth. But out of all of this, the most alluring were his eyes. They were a smoldering hazel color, and seemed to know everything. And, as I realized embarrasingly, they were looking at me, one eyebrow arched.

I moved my eyes away from the feral angel, and took a sip of my beer. I heard someone coming back from behind the bar, and turned around. Sure enough, the barmaid came back a minute later. Some idiot at the end of the bar shouted that it was about time, but she didn't pay him any attention.

"Listen, hon. He must be in a good mood t'day, 'cause management said you can get a few gas cans if ya need'em. Free a' charge." she paused to shake her head. "Either that man lost 'is mind, or just had a divine intervention. Never seen 'im act this way. Anyway, he's gotta go back to tha shed ta get 'em. Might take a few minutes." I thanked her, and turned around. To my surprise, the cage fighter was standing right beside me. I tried to act like I didn't care, but it's not that easy when you're gut is tying itself in a knot.

"Hey hon," said the barmaid again."Ya gonna pay fer that?" she asked, pointing to my beer.

"Oh, ya, sure." I reached into my back pocket for my wallet, but there was nothing there. I let a small growl escape my lips. A pickpocket. I looked around, and saw the two guys who'd shouted at me when I entered the bar. One of them was smiling a triumphant smile, and holding my wallet. My blood boiled. I marched up to the guy, my hazel eyes bright with fury.

The moron looked at me as though I'd fallen in some kind of trap. He gave a little chuckle.

" How 'bout a kiss fer this?" he offered, waving the wallet as his freind laughed. Oh I kissed him alright, kissed him with my fist. I pulled back my arm and socked him in the face. The guy's nose started gushing blood, but I hadn't done permanent damage. I grabbed my wallet as it flew out of his hand, and with a meaningful look at his freind, marched back to the bar.

The cage fighter looked slightly impressed, and I felt even prouder at that. I paid the barmaid, and resumed my position at the bar.

"Nice arm." he commented in a deep voice. I shrugged, flustered. This guy was really...familiar. I couldn't explain it. But I never forgot a scent, and this one... I was sure I'd smelled it before. "You ever fight before?" he asked, motioning toward the cage.

"I've still got all four limbs, don't I?" I asked sarcastically. He snorted. I looked back at the guy. There wasn't a mark on him, not even a scar. I found that kind of odd for a cage fighter, but I couldn't really concentrate, this guy was really hot, and I guess animal attraction was kicking in.

I managed to avert my eyes, but to my surprise, as soon as I turned my head the feral angel looked at _Me._ I felt selfconscious, but when I looked back at him, he wasn't staring at my chest like the rest of the idiots in the bar, he was looking at my ankle. I looked down, but there wasn't anything particularly interesting there, just my lucky dogtags I wore as an ankle bracelet.

"So, were'd you get those tags?" he asked casually. I looked at him sideways.

"I...found them." I answered. He arched an eyebrow. I gave him a look, mentally daring him to say I stole them. He didn't but just looked at me. I flattened out the yellow tank top I wore, the one that was short so part of my stomach was uncovered. This wasn't your ordinary pick-up artist, if that's what he was. But either way, he was really making me selfconsious, and the back of my mind was going berserk.

_Get a grip Adrian! _I thought to myself. I looked back up, and the feral angel was still looking at me, his smoldering gaze intrigued. Suddenly, a loud thump interupted my train of thought. If my hieghtened sense of smell hadn't detected the gasoline before, I would have jumped. I turned around and thanked the owner, a pudgy man with greased back hair.

"Need help?" asked the cage fighter. My heart seemed to shiver at the sound of his deep voice. But, I had learned better than to accept 'help' from guys in bars, so I 'graciously' told him sorry, but I only accept help from people I know the name of. He arched his eyebrow.

"Name's Logan. Need help now?" but I realized he didn't seem to anticipate an answer because he picked up the gas cans anyway, and marched out into the parking lot. Defeated, I followed him and pointed out my bike. He put the gas in the tank and waited for me to go. I looked at him, and wondered if he was going to ask for my number or something, but no. He simply waited, and arched an eyebrow once again.

"Thanks" I said shortly, and mounted my bike. The engine roared to life, and I was finally allowed to leave the bar. Getting back on the highway, I looked back, and saw him, still waiting.

"Weird" I muttered, and roared back to my apartment.


	2. Unexpected Attack

**Chapter 2**

Back on the highway, I thought about Logan, the cage fighter. It still made my stomach do backflips when I thought of him, but there was something mysterious about him. I remembered his scent...strong, and masculine, and a bit woody. I knew I smelled that scent somewhere... and for some reason I found it extremely attractive. I wondered about this for a minute, but not longer than that because immediatly, my bike hit something in the small road I was going down, and I was sent flying.

I emitted a scream, and landed face down in the grass. I cringed as I tried to get up. I saw some blood in the grass, but wasn't that worried. I bit my lip and looked up. My bike lay, a mangled pile of scrap in the road. I groaned at my luck. I popped my joints back into place and swayed a little as I got onto my knees. But what did I hit? I couldn't see anything that had nearly enough power to do _that_ to a motorcycle. I wasn't really looking though, so it was probably a log tha- my thoughts were interupted by something powerful ramming against my back.

I thrown down, this time my forehead tearing against the road's blacktop. I tried to get up again, and saw, to my disgust, my skin stuck to the road. Then I realized: I was pushed. Anger boiling in my viens, I ran forward so whomever was behind me wouldn't do it again. I turned around on the side of the road. I looked around for my assailant. Nothing. I cautiously walked forward, testing the air around me, and realized, someone was behind me, on top of the hill. I couldn't tell who, exactly, the smell of drying blood on my face overpowered their scent. I tried to act unsuspicious, but when I heard a leap, I unsheathed my gleaming adamantium claws, and swerved around. I took a swipe at whoever had jumped down to attack me, but realized who it was when I tore through the cotton tank top.

I pulled back my claws idiotically and stared at him. "YOU!" I cried at Logan, who had turned, alarmed. "What are you! A stalker?! Why did you attack me!?" I was pulling back, staring at him. Was this the reason his scent seemed familiar? Had he been following me? Apparently Logan wasn't too interested in me though, because he had turned back, his head up. Was he...testing the air? I grimaced at myself. This guy, a rapist or stalker or whatever he was, was trying to attack me, and I _still _was attracted to him, and now I was hoping he was a mutant like me?

Suddenly I caught another scent, a disgusting one that reminded me of something dead and decaying. I looked up at Logan hoping he really was testing the air, but he didn't seem to notice any difference. I would have scolded myself at being dissapointed my stalker wasn't a mutant, but in an instant, the scent became stronger. Whoever it was was moving closer, and fast. And without any warning, a giant fur-clad figure leaped from atop the hill, straight on top of Logan.

Whoever it was, they were the dead scent, and I realized instinctively they were going for the kill. I don't know what I was thinking, but their was a definite menicing characteristic about him, and I couldn't let him kill anyone, even someone who had just attacked me. I unsheathed my claws once again, and ran forward. The man had pinned Logan to the ground, and I could see blood coming from his wrists. I rammed myself straight into him, my claws skewering him from the back. He gave a shreik, and turned around. I saw a smile of pure poison spread across his face. With one disgusting hand, he reached around and wrenched me from his back. His black eyes were deadly.

"Well," he said in a husky voice laced with death, " it seems my prey came to me." I looked at him, not sure if I should wonder what he was talking about or attack him for attacking Logan. He pulled his repulsive face even closer to mine so I could smell his fetid breath. "What?," he asked, making me gag as I inhaled the putrid air that had just come out of his mouth, "you don't remember me from the road?" A dawning came over me. Logan hadn't attacked me, this monster had. I took that as a personal insult, and rammed my free hand's claws toward his stomach. He caught it and held my wrist in a steel hard grip. He bared him razor sharp teeth in a deadly smile, revealing a disgusting slime filled mouth. Suddenly, the smile turned to a look of pure hatred. "I'll come back for you later..." He threw me and my head rammed against a rock near the hill.

Black spots clouded my vision, and I only had time to see parts of a struggle, and Logan coming toward me before I surrendered to the immense pain in the back of my head, and slowly the darkness consumed me.


	3. Awakening

**Chapter 3**

_Death...Anger...flashes of red...claws plunging into...what? _

I threw my body up and looked around wildly. I could smell sterilizing alchohol and cotton sheets. Around me, walls of polished steel, with cabinets and shelves lined up against them, made what looked like a hospital room.I tested the air. I could smell jars inside the cabinets, hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. I tried to catch a few different scents, hoping to recognize them so I'd know where I was. The first was the most prominent, and smelled something like soft rose. I could also smell...another scent, one that I couldn't explain, but seemed oddly warm and comforting. And, I realized, the extremely sensual scent of Logan.

I looked around warily. I'd had a little trust in him, seeing as how it seemed he had saved me from that half-man half-animal back at the road. But like all the rest of the human race, he seemed to have taken advantage of that trust. I looked down, to see what I was wearing. I could feel that it wasn't my soft yellow tank top, and when I looked down, my suspicions were confirmed. I was wearing a stretchy white sleeveless T-shirt, made of cheap polyester. I still had my jeans, thankfully.

Suddenly, I smelled an aproaching scent. It smelled spicy, like cinnamon and cloves. Alongside it was the rose scent, and a third I hadn't yet identified. I wanted to move, but it seemed like someone had plastered me to the cold bedpan I had been laying in. My body wouldn't respond to my mind, which was at this point screaming:

_Move Adrian! Move! What are you Doing! Run! Get in the Shadows! Find a window! Just get out of here!_

A whir, and the doors flew open automatically. In came the three scents I had smelled. The spicy scent was a woman with coffee colored skin, and extremely frosty white hair. Her brown eyes were almost black. The rose scent was a smaller woman with light skin and short, flaming red hair. My senses were overpowered with signs of telepathy. They were always the easiest to tell about. The third was a man, who seemed to be out of his mind, or near so, because he was wearing some sort of visor over his eyes, with a garnet colored glass pane over it. I stared at the strangers, my mind torn. Fight or Flight was playing tug of war in my psyche. Half of me wanted to run, to where I had no idea. The other half was winning slightly, trying to tell me to tear the strangers to shreds and fight my out of wherever I was.

* * *

Jean Gray looked at the woman on the bedpan in her private hospital room. She looked as though she was apprehensive, not entirely scared but with a definite hint of panic. Jean delicatly reached into the woman's mind, trying to smooth out the worry, but she felt definite resistance to her presence in the woman's mind. She withdrew her connection, and saw the woman looking at her with a poisonous suspicion.

Jean stepped forward, unable to read the expression on this mysterious womans face. She started to say something, but the woman spoke first.

"Where am I?" she demanded, an unmistakable presence of aggitation mixed with fear in her voice. Jean breathed in deeply, as she answered.

"Xavier's School...for Gifted Children." She said. "You were...attacked. We took you back here to help with...your injuries." Her eyes darted from the spot where the gash in her head had been to the woman's incredulous eyes. "But," she added, " we can see we didn't need to when you got here." The woman's eyes flashed.

" If I was so hurt, why did you take me to a school, instead of a hospital?" Jean looked her over. She bit her lip before replying.

"You weren't safe out there. The man who attacked you was sure to come back. He's working for...someone else. We don't know why they want you, but...you're not safe outside with them out."

* * *

I looked them over. The rose scented woman seemed sincere, as did her spicy scented accomplice. I investagated further, but I could tell the rose one could sense what I was doing. Still, they didn't show any aura of menace, and even though the man next to them was as stiff and still as stone, I was...partially sure he wouldn't do anything he would regret later.

Sliding off the bedpan, I stared down the rose scented woman. I could immediatly sense it in her guilty eyes. She knew...everything. About my adamantium, about my healing, about my untamed side. Telepaths were the worst.

"I'm guessing you came for something?" I asked. I just wanted to get out of here. The woman seemed relieved that I had relinquished the steel grip that my eyes had had, revealing her secret of how she had picked my brains.

"Actually, the head Professor wanted to see you." she said. "But he's teaching a class now. We're asking you to stay, if only for a few hours. The man that attacked you, he was named Victor Creed. He's still prowling around out there, just waiting for you to leave. The Professor wanted to explain about...what happened back there."

I searched her for any signs of deciet, but I could find none. The two other people behind her had stayed silent. Nothing was threatening about their presence, nor their scent, but it wasn't kind either. I looked at them, still unconvinced. If there was one thing the cold, cruel world had taught me, it was that trust led to deceit.

"Just answer me one thing," I said, staring at the three with my mind torn in two. "Why should I trust you?"

The telepath looked at me, with something in her eyes reminiscent of pity. Slowly she sighed.

"Because," she said slowly, "If we cannot trust those around us...we find ourselves with nothing."


	4. Rule my own Life

**Chapter 4**

After the talk to Professor, a wheelchair bound man with a hawk nose and the comforting scent I had noticed in the hospital, my brains had turned to mush.

I couldn't believe it, or, more appropriatly, didn't want to believe it. Too much, too soon. It was impossible, metal bending mutants, the Victor Creed (who the professor had called Sarbretooth) who had attacked me, why I had been taken to the school, and just how many mutants who were there. He'd introduced me to the staff near the end of my meeting, and asked me if I wanted to stay for a while. I couldn't exactly say no, if all this was true. Leaving this slightly, (ok, not slightly), strange place seemed like condemning myself to all of the psychotic characters he had talked about. I wouldn't have believed it at all had I not encountered Creed, (or Sabretooth, whatever).

By the time I managed to stagger out of the office, my mind ready to overflow with all I had just heard, the last thing I needed was to have my heart jump into my throat when I smelled his enticing scent. And so of course, Logan had to be sprawled carelessly on the bench facing the door, causing my female hormones to soar, and the last of my logic to fizzle out.

* * *

Logan sat on the bench in the lobby, just outside the Professor's office door. He couldn't help it. Whether anyone realized it or not, that scent was driving him crazy. It was familiar, but more so was extremely attractive. Whoever this mystery woman was, he couldn't get that first catch of her scent out of his mind. It was the first thing that drew him near her at the bar, desperatly fighting the increasing urge to lean in and test her enticing scent, and trying with all his mind to act as though she meant nothing. He inhaled it again, and much to complete surprise, he didn't get a small whiff like he had been getting, but it hit his face full blast.

His eyes threw themselves open, and he saw her, _her_ eyes open in surprise, standing with her hand still on the door she had just closed. He tried to gather himself but she'd gone away quickly toward's the staff wing were her new room was located. He decided he needed to get out of there before anyone else noticed him indulging in the oddly sensual smell coming off her lightly tanned skin. He left the lobby quickly, the tantalizing scent still hanging delicatly in the air.

* * *

I silently closed to door of my new dorm, and slumped to the floor. Why is it that he did that to me? I'm a tough girl who's lived a tough life, living off whatever money I could scrape up for gas and food. I've seen alot of hot guys, though none like him, and I'd never go to peices like that in front of them. I never cared about anyone's opinion about me except my own, but all of the sudden the only thing I thought about around him was whether I'd do something stupid, or, even worse, something to let him know he could rip my insides to shreds with a single word.

I pulled myself up from the spot on the floor and looked at myself in the mirror that had been thoughtfully provided. My usually silky chestnut hair had frizzed, and I found a few chips of dry blood where my head had hit the rock that had knocked me out. I smirked at the pitiful reflection in the mirror, that in turn smirked at me. I couldn't let whatever this was go on. I didn't like the sort of power he had over me, the ability to destroy my soul with a look, or cause my gut to do sombersaults with a word. _I_ was the only ruler of my life, and no man, especially not someone like Logan, would rule it for me.


	5. Broken Promise

Note: thanx to Ratdogtwo! I was terrified that I was posting a boring story, and my first review saved me alot of worried sleep!

**Chapter 5**

_Hatred...Fighting...Boiling blood in my Viens...Turning to my Enemy...Who?_

I woke up in cold sweat, my nightmares once again terrifying, but I was once again unable to remember what I had just dreamt. I racked my brains, but the details of the nightmare were hazy, and all I could remember was an immense hatred and fury that had run through me, cutting my soul like a knife.

I checked the digital bedside clock that had been placed by my bed. 4:43 A.M. I laid back down, but like always, it was impossible to get back to sleep. I crept out of bed and went to the bureau. I brushed my hair, (with a lot of difficulty because the rolling around from the nightmare had knotted it beyond belief). I got dressed in my own clothes, because someone had been thoughtful enough to raid my apartment for my stuff.

Suddenly, I thought of something. I went to my duffel bag, and dug through the neatly packed clothes, electronics, and assorted trash I insisted on keeping until I found what I was looking for. I pulled them out, two perfect, slender but tough drumsticks. I loved these things, I'd had them since...since I could remember. The black paint was gone where my thumbs had rubbed against it, the hickory wood they were made out of was worn out, and the nylon tips had just about been pushed to their limit from beating against the old drum set I'd managed to get my hands on. But still, these were one of my most prized possesions, next to my ankle bracelet.

I stuffed them back into the bag and went back to the mirror. I tied my bandana around my hair again, and looked into the mirror anxiously. I'd decided to wear my least-worn-out pair of jeans and a blue shirt thats sleeves only went down halfway. I was starting to wonder if I might need to use my old tube of reddish purple lipstick that I'd bought because I'd realized guys usually would 'lend' money to a pretty, flirtatous girl. Then it hit me: I'd broken my promise to myself already. I scowled at myself, looking at the overdone girl in the mirror. No guy, I reminded myself, not even Logan, was going to make me turn into a make-up wearing girly girl. I felt my stomach give a quiver at the thought of him, sprawled out carelessly across the lobby bench, and felt disgusted at myself.

I waited until at least 5:45 to come out of my room, now completely sure I was Logan-proof. Nothing, not even his scent was going to set me off. _Nothing._ I headed toward the school's small kitchen to grab something to eat. I made a cup of coffee, strong and unsweetend, and breathed deeply. Mutant scent was all over this school. I tried to enjoy the mix of mutant and delicious coffee while I calmed down. I grabbed a stool by the island, and sat down.

* * *

Logan woke up with a start. He looked around wildly, trying to get his bearings, when he realized he was back in the same room that he always woke up in. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm down. Coffee? There was definitely coffee in the air. He glanced at the clock. It was six by now. He groaned and got up. 

His head still ached from the nightmare, but the promise of coffee to help him get the fog out of his head was enticing. He stopped outside the kitchen, frozen. Amongst the wafting scent of fresh brewed coffee, he could smell the sensually attractive aroma coming from what was unmistakebly the mystery woman, who had gained a name in the last few hours: Adrian. He backed off, not wanting to attract any attention, but stopped himself. _He was the Wolverine!_ What was he doing, being scared off by some woman who he hadn't even said two words to?

With a determination coming from pure bullheadedness, he marched into the kitchen. Sure enough, she was sitting on a stool sipping a mug of fresh coffee. She raised her eyes, unsurprised. Logan remembered. _She_ could detect scents too. He grimaced inside his head. _This _was going to agitating, being detected so easily.

She raised a hand in a short hello, and returned to her coffee, uninterested. This was another thing that both confused and annoyed Logan; most women were swooning within sight of him, but Adrian seemed as though she didn't care if he was there or not. Logan couldn't figure out this woman, and that annoyed him even more. Resisting the erotic pull of her scent, though not that well, he quickly grabbed a cup of coffee and left before he did anything drastic.

* * *

As soon as Logan left, the masculine smell of his skin still wavering, Adrian practically fell off her chair. She'd done a well enough job pretending he was nothing, but that scent was really doing things to her. She could hardly stand it, sitting rigidly still while the body heat coursed off him in waves, sending the delicious scent of his bare skin with it. 

She prayed he hadn't noticed her take leave of her act and fall over. She took some deep breaths, inhaling what was left of him in the air. Grasping the counter for support, she remembered her promise to herself. A nagging voice in her head reminded her:

_I'm not letting anyone besides myself rule me._

Feeling overwhelmed by Logan and the not-so-innocent wants in her mind right now, she smiled smugly and shot back at the voice:

"Damn my promise."

That seemed to shut up the voice for good.


	6. Realization

**Chapter 7**

For the next few days, I noticed something different about Logan every time I passed him in the halls. It seemed as though he was doing everything possible to avoid me. And every time I got within five feet of him, he seemed to clench his jaw and stiffen. I couldn't imagine what I could have done to make him have such dislike for him, but I took it like a personal insult.

His scent was stronger lately, making it exceedingly hard to ignore him. I felt my heart give a quiver every time I passed him, and it seemed as though I could sense his scent in every room, even my own. Still, I found solace in a small clearing near the school grounds. During the talk with him, Professor Xavier told me I was going to completely safe around the school grounds, as long as I didn't stray too far. I didn't like being trapped like that, but on the other hand, my instincts told me it would be better to hang around rather than have another encounter with Sabretooth. Though I technically was going off school grounds, the foliage making up the forest surrounding it were a god-send. I could rush through, letting the animal in my soul uncoil and take over. It felt like freedom, and since my bike was crushed, I'd hadn't felt freedom in a long time.

It was on one of these trips into the deep heart of the woods, pushing past the oaks and maples and holly bushes, that I found my clearing. I'd seen a light shaft breaking through in front of me and was intrigued, because the forest was so dense. I hadn't seen any trace of the sun all day. I broke through the last of the bushes and briars and found the most beautiful place I'd ever seen.

The clearing had shafts of light, breaking through the boughs of the trees to glisten the fresh morning dew. The air smelled clear and crisp; like fresh rain, although the bright glimmer of the cloudless sky proved there hadn't been a drop. Against my bare feet, the grass felt soft and slightly wet from the dew. I closed my eyes, breathing in the freshness of the air. The beauty and surreal mystique of the place drew me in.

I'd gone there often, whether to think or rest or simply enjoy the break away from the convoluted web of life. But lately, I'd gone to think about Logan. He was confusing. I was completely trapped. His scent. That familiar, delicious, ethereal scent. It was what trapped me, filling my mind with chaos, lust mixed with confusion with a hint of joy. I knew I more than enjoyed it; I was addicted.

I turned my face toward the light breeze, hoping to clear my mind of Logan. This was unhealthy, obsessing over him. He was a guy. A guy and nothing more. And for a moment, laying on the soft grass as the breeze ran through my hair, I believed it.

* * *

Logan watched from in the dense trees. This was the last place he'd expected to see her. In fact, that's precisely the reason he'd gone here. Too much of her filled his thoughts, taunting the hidden animal lust locked away in his soul. His attraction to her had increased lately, tempting him to do something he'd later regret. She turned over in the slight wind and her scent blew toward him. 

He stopped, frozen. Once again the undeniable scent filled his lungs, wrapping him in a deadlock of attraction. He could feel the Wolverine, filled with complete aggresive passion, pacing inside of him, restless, trying to find an escape at all costs. He tightened his chest, trying with all his might to desregard the furious, animalistic greed rising up in him. He tried to look away, but his eyes were locked on her delicate figure, clad only in a small yelow tank top and short shorts.

He watched, self-resolve slipping away more with every second. She uncrossed her slender legs, then crossed them again, obviously content and untroubled. His chin trembled, the resevoir of self control almost empty. The Wolverine had stopped pacing, seeing an opening. He weakened, her scent still lingering from the breeze. He took a reluctant step forward...but was snapped back to his senses.

She had gone rigid, her green eyes searching the forest. Logan realized with horror that the smallest, most unnoticable wind was lightly brushing against his back. It wasn't much, but he was sure it had carried his scent far enough for her to recognize it. He started to take a small, quiet step backwards, when her bright green eyes rested on him.

Logan waited, for what he didn't know. An explosion, a fight, whatever she had in mind. But he saw her eyes move to the rest of the forest clearing. He didn't dare give a sigh of relief, because even that could set of her senses. Her beautiful eyes swept over the clearing one more time, but didn't rest on him again. After a quick minute, she seemed to relax. He silently relaxed as well, but the Wolverine was enraged at its missed chance at what it wanted. Logan wanted to move back, but knew her keen senses would catch even the smallest movement. He stood and waited, trying to find a way out.

* * *

I closed my eyes, suspicious. I had sensed Logan. His scent was much too recognizable for me to miss. And I had seen him, standing there like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But I didn't attack him out of anger for spying...partially because...I liked it. I leaned back, listening with all my might...what was he doing? I heard rough, uneven breaths...and the smallest sound of ruffling clothes. 

My chin trembled slightly, remembering the smallest look into his chest that day at the bar. Beneath my lids, visions of him taunted me,

Logan leaning against the bar, sweat glistening on him from the cage fight,

Logan fighting Sabretooth, a look of pure animal fury on his face,

Logan draped over the lobby bench, his face pleased,

Logan, Logan, Logan...

I heard the crunch of leaves approaching, and my stomach tightened. What was he doing? If he was planning something, he should have done it already. If he'd just been spying, he would have hightailed it back to the school when I sensed him. If he'd gone to come bring me back to the safety of the school on Xavier's orders, he would just come get me... But no. He simply stood there. Suddenly, another breeze came from his direction, and my face was tickled with the tantalizing scent of his bare skin. But I smelled...fear? And something...something like soft rose. Jean! She wasn't there a minute ago. What were they doing!?

I reached out my hearing, centering all my powers on that one sense.

"What are you doing?" hissed a soft, female voice. Jean. Logan didn't answer, at least no answer I could detect. I heard their feet leave, but the lighter set pause. I could sense Jeans worried expression even without powers. As soon as their feet carried away, my eyes popped open. I looked in the direction where their scents still lingered. What...what was that I had seen on Logans face?

As I closed my eyes to relax with my thoughts, I couldn't help but remember the look on his face, as if he had been caught indulging in something forbidden. A thought wavered across my mind for the slightest moment...

_Did Logan...feel the way I did?_


	7. Sweet Escape

**Chapter 1**

Back in my dorm, I sat at the stool facing the mirror, chin in my hands. I stared at the reflection in front of me, a light skinned woman with tangled brown hair, brightly inquisitive eyes, and a smudge of dirt across her left cheek. If Logan did like me, which I doubt he did, what did he see?

I picked up my brush and pulled it through the thick tangles of my hair and gasped as it just about wrenched half of it out. I smirked at the pained reflection, which in turn smirked back. After a minute of all out war with my hair, I decided to suffice with a messy ponytail. I cocked my head at the reflection, which looked slightly better, though still dirty.

I turned to the digital clock on the bedside table. In a blink, the clock changed to 2:37 AM. I sighed and looked in the mirror. The reflection looked pitiful.

I brushed off a leaf I found on my small tank top, and turned back to the mirror. I hadn't changed when I had gotten back. The scent of my clothes had had the fresh, crisp scent of the clearing. My only comfort in the turmoil of my mind. Now, looking at the short shorts and yellow top, both old and now smudged with dirt, I decided to change.

I ripped through what was left in the duffel bags, and found my only pair of pajamas. They weren't much. They were both cheap, sky blue cotton, a light pair of capri pants and a top with spaghetti straps that barely went down enough to cover me. I lifted my nose to them hopefully, and was happy to discover that they still had the scent of my apartment; pizza pockets and a glade plug-in. It wasn't a particularly good scent; but it was the scent of home, another small comfort.

I dressed in my comforting smelling clothes and looked back at the clock: 2:48. I flopped back on my bed and tried to get some sleep, though I knew it was useless. I couldn't sleep. Not with the thousands of thoughts that barraged my mind, making it utterly impossible to focus on just one. The thought that Logan might have even the slightest spark of interest in me, was...was a feeling that was completly confusing, arousing, and partially scary all at the same time.

One minute I wanted to jump for joy: He Liked Me! A second later I wanted to throw up: He Liked Me? The next I felt a spark go off in the back of my head: He Liked Me... All rolled and tumbled and thrown around in the back of my mind, a confusing, nauseating thought.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This was too much. I liked tangible dangers; something I could touch and feel and rip to shreds. Something like this conflict, pulling my psyche into a thousand irreplacable bits...it was scarier than Sabretooth or any of the other pychotic mental patients Xavier talked about.

I shouldn't do this. I can't. Couldn't. WON'T! I sprang up. This was too much, being pulled apart. I couldn't stand it; this was not the kind of thing I was adjusted to, and I hate not being able to attack a danger head on.

Fight or Flight kicked in again; I realized there was no way to fight it, so why not choose flight? Being trapped here; cooped up like a canary in a cage, I couldn't stand it! What these people didn't realize was that I _wasn't_ a canary, I was a phoenix. A bright, shiningly proud phoenix aching to spread her wings, but unable to simply because of feeble locks. What I realized right now was just how feeble those locks were; Logan, Xavier, Jean...simply locks trying to tether me here; keeping me in line by confusion, no freedom to speak of.

I loved freedom.

That one thought; _They took away my freedom!._ I couldn't stand it, and I think that's what made up my mind. I gathered my duffel bags, and shoved my stuff in them, clothes, drumsticks, old cell phone, everything. I was leaving, no doubt in my mind. I was a one track machine. My mind made up. Some people said you couldn't run away from your problems; I beg to differ. I'd run away from a ton of problems before, from the repo man to drunks. No one could say I couldn't run away from this Logan problem too.

Logan. That thought slowed me, but only for a half a second. I was leaving. Now. Before this whole thing got out of hand. I paused at the doors, listening for any sounds. Nothing. Bags slung over my shoulder, I hurridely crept down to where the cars, bikes, and jet were held. No one had ever told me about them, but I could sense the engine exhaust of a bike a mile away.

Once in the garage,( or whatever this was), I looked around. There was a bike here, I was sure of it. My gaze gliding across the cars, gleaming and glistening as if they had just been bought, and I saw it. It was sleek black, aerodynamic it looked like. I admired it for a minute. This made my old bike look like a pile of scrap, which I guess it was. Now at least. My mind flitted back to Sabretooth; with enough power to smash my bike to smithereens. I growled. I was not letting anything, not even Sabretooth deter me. I slung one leg over the bike and got a good stance. The leather felt great against my skin. I leaned in and breathed in the smell; polish and gas. I was in my own personal Nirvana.

I slung my bags securely over my shoulders again, and started the bike. It was quiet, but there definetly was an engine going, purring like a lion content, staring at helpless prey. I felt the familiar rush of power again, and for the first time in a week, _Freedom_. I rushed forward the garage door, the engine now a lion's roar rather than purr. The door slid open automatically, letting me gain access to the road. I felt wind pushing against my face, the bike vibrating violently, the engine roaring louder than ever. As I raced through the iron bars, I felt free. The phoenix had spread her wings and flown away.

* * *

Logan immediatly threw himself out of bed. This time, it wasn't a dream that awoke him. It was the sound of a roaring motor. It was definetly from the garage, he could tell. As he heard the scuffle of footsteps outside his door, he knew Jean and the others could tell too.

He ran out the door, and saw Jean and Storm racing down the stairs, Scott was coming out the door to his room as well. He followed them to Xavier's study, where the professor spent most his hours. Rushing into the room after Jean and Storm, Scott following close behind, Logan saw Xavier, his chair turned away from them, looking through the window. The faint glimmer of a motorcycle light was in the distant road.

"My God, she's gone." whispered Xavier horsely. Logan thought he saw something move in the trees near the road. The professor seemed to notice it too. "We need to get her before Magneto does. Jean, Storm, come with me, Scott, keep look out. And Logan..."

Logan realized what Xavier wanted. Gruffly, his mind spinning, he grimaced.

"Fine. I'll get her."


	8. Magneto

**Chapter 8**

* * *

I could smell him before I saw him. That decaying stench was enough to set me off. I kept my eyes if front of me and leaned forward. 

Sabretooth.

There was another blast of the dead scent...something was wrong. I slowed the bike, hoping to get a better chance of sensing it. If he really was prowling around after me, he wouldn't make his scent so noticable. I narrowed my eyes, brushing a strand of chestnut hair out of my face, and stopped the bike. I lifted my nose to the air. He was definetly was close, and there was no precautions taken to hide that fact. Obviously he didn't know I was so near...until I felt the scent dissapear in a snap. He had sensed me.

I got off the bike and pulled it to the shadows of the hill surounding the road. His scent was so faint I could barely recognize it anymore. But he wasn't running away, or his disgusting smell would have gone slower. He was just hiding it until he found an opening to attack. I smiled, an actual smile. Time to put my tracking skills to the test.

I had the uncanny ability to track anyone once I had their scent. It was like it was programmed into me. I had thought it just came with my powers, but Xavier had smashed that. He'd been able to see into my mind,...only as far as I would let him though. I didn't trust telepaths. He'd told me the reason I was able to catch scents quicker and hold them longer than Logan, (a thought that had me smirking when I realized how someone as proud as him would react to _that_), was because I had some sort of...advancement. I wasn't allowing him any farther into my mind, so he couldn't tell me what kind of 'advancement', though I surmised it was some sort of mutation-within-the-mutation.

I concentrated all my abilities, sight, hearing, smell, on the one scent of decaying meat. Immediatly I saw it. Like a trail of energy, his scent showed where he had been, stronger where he had stayed longer, almost gone were he had ran. I narrowed my eyes, concentrating even harder. I slid along my shadowy hideaway, following where his scent led me. I crept up the small slope, my feet trying to cause the least amount of noise possible. All of my power and energy was focused on the disgusting smell. If anything happened, I would have to rely on instinct alone.

I stopped with a jolt. This was wrong. The scent was...erratic now. It swerved almost impossibly. This wasn't...this scent wasn't caused by him, it was...like someone had simply taken something with his smell and dragged it. I realized too late. Something slammed me from behind, sending me soaring off the slope and landing with a thud on the road below. I groaned, but didn't spare a minute in pushing myself up.

It was almost as if I was in auto-pilot. My claws unsheathed themselves automatically, and I caught the scent of what had pushed me, the smell still on my back. A furious growl escaped my lips. I heard something to the right in the trees, then in the left, back to the right, in the center, far away, just at the edge...like whoever was there was testing my defenses, trying to find a weak spot. I wasn't letting that happen. I focused all my energy on that ethereal scent, almost reptilian. That is, until a blinding light almost ran me over.

A heard a loud engine, and saw a sleek black car pull over quickly. That distracted me for a minute, and the prowler found it's opening. It leaped on me, sending me to the ground. I felt a sharp pain to the side of my face, as one adamantium sheathed claw sliced my cheek. An enraged roar rose from my chest as I thrashed a claw toward where the scent was eminating.

A shriek like skidding tires came from my attacker. I opened my eyes, which were burning with rage. My assailant was covered in shimmering blue scales, what little hair she had slicked back. One thick slice to her side was pouring blood.

She didn't waste time in her retreat as she darted behind the trees, almost too fast for my eyes...but not for my nose. I raced forward, blind rage coursing through my viens. There were drops of blood where she'd slithered through the trees. I heard the swift sound of rushing air behind me, and my right hand flew out instinctively. Another shriek, and the sound of a body falling on crunching leaves.

I turned on the attacker, who was now the victim. The gash on her side was opened more from her running, in addition to a new chunk I'd cut out on her shoulder. My eyes burned with pure animal fury. I raised my arm for the fatal blow. I thrust it down toward her heart, but was thrown backward.

It was like a steel barrier had slammed against my front, sending me back once more. My head hit a streetlight pole, stopping my soar through the air. I growled, half from pain, half from anger. I threw myself up and started forward. But I couldn't move.

* * *

Logan's head swerved as a body was thrown through the air. There was a metallic thud as its head hit a lamp post. He ran forward, ready to attack. But stopped short when he saw Adrian. Her eyes were hatred, an animalistic look of fury imprinted on them. He was almost frightened by what he saw. Her green eyes had always been sharp, as though she could see into the sould of whomever she was looking at, but they had never had the look of pure primal anger that they had now. 

She leapt up, causing Logan to jump back. The look in her eyes was one that burned with a fierce hatred like he had never seen. She thrust her body forward, ready to attack once more, but stopped, as if she'd been frozen. Logan realized a second too late what had happened.

* * *

My lip curled in a scorching feroscity I had never experienced before. I couldn't move. It felt as though my entire body was held in place by titanium bonds, allowing for no movement but shallow breaths. Someone was approaching from out of the forest, a distinctive metallic scent coming off their skin. My hands were shaking with rage, unable to move, unable to attack. Unable to defend. 

I stood there, all my rage bottled up inside my head. Ready to crack, ready to explode. My gaze moved to a slight movement in the edge of the trees. Within seconds, a man appeared, striding with pride and assurance. He was wearing a silver suit, with what looked like a flowing cape behind it. A battered helmet was placed on his head. Through the dim light, I could see that one arm was slightly raised.

"So this is the female is it? A matched set?" I couldn't understand what he was talking about. Matched set? I heard a growl behind me, and my chest filled with a new fury. I was sure it was Sabretooth. Behind the man, the blue reptilian mutant appeared. The gash wasn't bleeding anymore, but looked hideous either way. So they had me cornered? Ready to be killed, or manipulated, or whatever it was Xavier said they'd do.

The silver-clad man turned toward the growl coming from behind me. I waited, sure death was around the corner. But instead of calling to his beast-like comrade, he asked:

"Why is it that you never learn, Logan?" I gasped within my head, _Logan? _The ancient mutant raised his other hand, and Logan seemed to be pulled forward, by some invisible, painful tether. The metallic scented mutant sighed with a sarcastic smile. "Pride cometh before the fall, Logan. I'm afraid pride is something you have an excess of."

Within a second, Logan was thrown toward the ground by invisible hands. He started writhing, snarls of fury mixed with gasps of pain errupting from his mouth. My chin trembled, half with anguish and half with a sharp ferocious hatred. My head filled with the sense that it had been filled with a boiling water, searing the inside as if it was being slowly roasted. My lip curled with another snarl.

The pressure that had been in my head built. It pushed, then rammed, then attacked the inside of my head, fighting to get out. The pressure in my head pushed outward, harder, harder, harder until it was about to burst with heat and pain. I shook, starting with my head and going down to my chest. The fury that had been bottled up had grown to astronomical proportions. And then, the bottle broke.

It was as if the pressure was surging out of my head, a tidal wave of blind rage. I heard a thunderous crash, a crack, another shreik, a snarl, a hoarse yell. My titanium bonds broke. I opened my burning eyes. The sleek black car was a twisted heap of metal, a nearby tree had a trunk almost snapped in half. Both of the assailants were gone, but a shallow blood splatter was trailed, obviously where the reptile had slithered to her escape.

The last of the pressure inside my head flooded out. My tensed muscles slowly became weak, and I collapsed. My energy had drained from me, leaving my body slumped against the streetlight I had hit earlier. A small drop of blood trickled out from a deep cut from my forehead and into my eye. My breaths became shallow, one eye hazy, the other tinted red with blood. I gave a gasp, trying to get my last air out. Once again, my already disabled vision became ridden with black blotches.

With one last gasp, I slid down to the ground.


	9. Hallucinations of Pleasure

**Chapter 9**

Logan walked carefully toward the figure of Adrian, who was slumped on the ground, her delicate hands still clutched tightly around the streetlight she had been holding for support. She looked almost helpless, no less attractive than before, her scent still pulling at his very soul. Yet despite the pull her bare skin held on him, he was not entirely sure it was safe to aproach.

He had never seen anything like what had just happened. The blind rage that had been stored in her eyes had rushed out, destroying everything in her path, crushing Cyclop's car, cracking the oak tree in half, and throwing Magneto back, Mystique slithering after him.

But she seemed docile now, layed out by the edge of the road, her chest rising choppily as she inhaled ragged breath. She seemed weak, helpless, and Logan had an overwhelming sense of protectiveness rip through him. The Wolverine, however, was not so trusting, keeping his distance so as not to catch what might be left of the rage that had taken over the form of Adrian.

Logan stood there for an hour or so, the Wolverine telling him to keep his distance, his humanity telling him to run forward and help the woman lying in pain in front of him. It wasn't until the golden rays of the rising sun covered everything in a pale light that he remembered Xavier and everyone else. If he didn't get back to the school soon, they'd come looking for him.

Disregarding the Wolverine, who was tearing to get back to safety, he cautiously approached the figure. Carefully, he scooped up her limp head, and the scent of her lightly tanned skin hit him full blast. The Wolverine forgot all escape attempts and ragained its raw animal lust. Logan felt disgusted with himself. Here was a woman who'd obviously just gone through something excruciatingly painful, and was now struggling even with her healing factor, and all he could think of was how attractive she was?

He placed another hand under her knees and lifted her up. One limp hand slid across his face, and the urge of lust hit him again. He tightened his chest and marched forward, only permitting the shortest of breaths. With the car crushed, they would have to use the motorcycle, which was fine with Logan.

* * *

I gave a ragged gasp as I flew awake, a horrifying dream resurfacing. I fell, or rather, something dropped me. My head hit the ground with another painful blow. I groaned, pulling myself up. I could only remember bits and parts of what I had been dreaming, but what I did remember terrified me. A darkened street, unbridled fury, the mutant called Magneto keeping me hostage, the disgusting snake like woman who was his accomplice...Logan writhing in pain. That last one hit me with a pang of immense angst running through me heart. 

I groggily slid my eyes open, trying to find out if I would wake up in my apartment or the school dorm. Neither. I was on a street, lightly tainted with light that seemed...oddly familiar. Deja Vu. I turned around, this was _too_ much Deja Vu...it couldn't have happened, it was just a dream...wasn't it?

I immediatly knew it hadn't been a dream when I saw Logan. He looked exactly how he had before, before...what did happen? I held on to a streetlamp near me. The entire thing was a haze. I could remember an attack, Logan in pain (as if I could ever forget that), a blinding fury, and then...nothing.

I groaned as a new pain shot through my arm, then my leg. I cleared my head and looked around. It definetly was where...whatever had happened happened. Then it came to me:

A hallucination.

It was just a hallucination. I'd probably wrecked another bike on the road, out of my own stupidity, cracked my head so I fell unconscious, had another horrible dream,...and that crack to my head was still affecting me, making me see things that weren't really there. It felt alot better having this explained.

I cleared the haze out of my head and looked around. A pile of mangled black car was off to the side, and a tree seemed to be slit down it's middle. Wow, my imagination was taking no limit in recreating the scene of my nightmare. I felt my legs start to shake. Apparently, my healing factor wasn't up to par or something. I couldn't get rid of this pain. One of my legs gave way, tripping up the other. I fell clumsily, but instead of falling on the blacktop road, I fell in to a pair of strong arms. I looked around, but the scent was enough to know. Logan.

His shirt was torn, and patches of dry blood were staining what was left of it. His hair had been mussed, and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. My imagination was going into overdrive trying to recreate him. I smirked at the hallucinatory Logan, a figment of my imagination. His scent struck me once more, and I realized:

He's a hallucination. Anything I do won't affect anything. It's all in my head. The real Logan wouldn't have the faintest idea of what I had did in my own dream.

It was like the whole problem that had caused my running away in the first place was gone. I didn't have to care what Logan thought of me for wanting (or in fact doing) what my hormones had been screaming at me to do in the first place. Because this wasn't the actual Logan, just an incredibly lifelike resemblance of him, made up by my mind so I could finally be relieved of the horrible pressure I had been enduring.

I smiled a dreamy smile, my head filled with another fog. I turned around and rested against his broad chest, letting the scent that had taunted me come in titanic waves. I was wrong about the bike being Nirvana. _This_ was Nirvana.

* * *

Logan looked at Adrian uncertainly. The Wolverine inside him was going berserk with instincts of pure sexual pleasure. But his logic was able to overcome that. What was she doing?! It seemed like she'd had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever, and all of the sudden she was acting head over heels. 

His logic was dissolving though. Adrian's head was pressed firmly against his chest, her fingers slowly tracing the muscles on his arms. Her scent was the only thing he could smell, her dark brown hair brushing lightly against his face. He felt something in the pit of his stomach lurch. His self-control wasn't holding out too well. He bit his lip so hard it bled.

Adrian had pressed a kiss to his chest, and was looking up with misty green eyes. There were more in those eyes than he had ever seen before.

_She's delirious._

She's in love.

_She doesn't know what she's doing._

She's in love.

_She'll regret this in the morning._

She's in love.

He looked down into her misty green eyes. They were clouded with a thousand incomprehensible emotions. Carefully, he lifted up her delicate chin.

And pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Thanx for reading! P.S. I'm practically begging for reviews by now, so please review! 


	10. Panic

**Chapter 10**

I stared up into Logans goreous, smoldering hazel eyes. My hands were wrapped around his neck, and I was pressed up against his chest. One of his strong hands held on to my back, the other brushed a strand of hair out of my face. I relished the feel of his rough hands on my face, and I realized something.

You can't _feel_ hallucinations.

I should have felt...something. Surprise at myself for actually doing all this, Embarrassment at how he really knew how I felt, or maybe even a bit of Fear. But lost in Logan's gorgeous dark brown eyes, all I really could feel was...was something I'd never felt before. It wasn't lust, but it did have a hint of it. The feeling was as if Logan had become a part of me, and if he ever...if he ever got hurt, that part of me could die, and even my healing factor couldn't stop it.

I buried my head in his chest, and mumbled,

"So this isn't a dream?"

He seemed surprised, but not at all offended. His hand ran down my back, and the feeling once again washed over me. He _was_ a part of me. And in that instant, I knew what I had felt:

love.

* * *

On the way back to the X-Mansion, Logan rode on the motorcycle, (seeing as how cyclops' car was now scrap metal), with Adrian riding behind, pressed up against him, her hands on his waist for balance. He had realized how much she had felt for him, and an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

A kiss was placed on his neck, and he once again felt the overwhelming sense of protectiveness and love that he had felt back at road. It seemed ironic...he had found love where a horrific fight had raged. But he didn't care.

* * *

The ride back to the school took almost no time at all, or so it seemed. The rest of the mutants, particularly Xavier, were relieved that I had survived. All though Cyclops wasn't too thrilled that his car was crushed, Jean was happy, so so was he. It quickly became apparent to everyone that Logan and I were an item. I've got to admit, he and I spent much too much time together. There was hardly a moment when he didn't have an arm around my waist, keeping me protected, marking me as his own. Storm seemed slightly surprised, and Xavier had seemed to already know we'd end up together. (Once again, I repeat that I do not trust telepaths, and so of course felt suspicious). 

Jean seemed happy, but Scott seemed relieved. I guess I couldn't blame him, seeing as how it _would_ be hard to keep a girlfreind with Logan around. Still, relief wasn't changing the hostility. I'd noticed Scott had a total dislike for Logan from the begginging, and I guessed the reason he seemed to have an automatic distrust towards me was the fact that Logan and I shared the same powers and claws.

Even with the comfort of Logan holding on my waist, something kept tugging on my conscious. It was what really had happened, that night when I was knocked unconscious. All I could remember was blinding rage, Logan in pain, the old man I was sure was Magneto, Sabretooth's putrid scent, and an immense light before my eyes, and...I blacked out. Xavier was especially interested, and concerned. I knew I needed to get help to find out what had really happened, so I agreed to let Xavier pick my brains. There wasn't much to hide, now. Though unfortunetly, he couldn't get much.

I often went back to the clearing. It was wonderful because I could think with clarity without having all of the haze and confusion that usually was thrown around in my mind. Logan often joined me, mostly because he went wherever I went. It kind of defeated the purpose though, because you couldn't help but be distracted when you were next to someone like Logan.

* * *

Logan knew Adrian was in the clearing where she always seemed to be, laying on the soft grass as she breathed in the fresh air that surrounded her. Sure enough, Logan found her relaxing, leaning against an old fir. He walked next to her and sat down, watching how her chest rose and fell with each breath. She seemed as though she was in complete equilibrium, at peace with herself and that which was around her. 

She turned over, her eyes half closed. She looked up and met his hazel eyes with inquiry. Logan raised an eyebrow. She smirked and breathed in a deep breath. Adrian looked up at the deep blue sky, starting to turn purple as the sun set.

"Do you know what happened?" she asked. Logan turned, confused. "I mean, what happened when...I did whatever it was I did. When Magneto showed up." Logan shuddered as he remembered the hatred that had burned through her eyes. He turned back to Adrian, whos eyes showed no hint of the hostility they had had before. They were glazed over, looking into the purple sky. Logan didn't answer. The truth was that he had no idea what had happened. That idea, that he didn't know what had happened and had no way of protecting her was torture to his soul. He reached over and put his arm around her waist. He might not be able to protect her if _that_ ever happened again, but he could keep her safe now.

* * *

I felt Logan put a hand around my waist, and I rolled over onto his chest. I lightly pressed my lips to his. Logan pressed back, harder. I ran my hands through his tangle of dark hair as he ran a hand down my back. I kissed him faster, and felt him push me forward, so we were crammed together, frantically kissing each other. 

I felt love. I felt lust. I felt fullfilment. I felt pure pleasure. I felt...something go off in the back of my head once again. Like a miniture firecracker. It gave me a feeling unlike my others...not happy...like panic. It slowly filled me, making me more and more panicked by the second. I felt like I was going to drown. A wave of sheer terror washed over me... I needed to get out! Escape! I was going to die if I didn't run! I had to defend myself!

I didn't know what was happening. It was horrible, a feeling like I would be crushed to death if I didn't escape...but escape from what?! Logan had noticed my panicked expression and darting eyes, and was holding my arms at the elbows firmly. I looked around, my eyes darting for some escape route. Gotta get out! Gotta get out! My arms were stuck. Another wave of terror. I felt a crushing on my ribcage. Dazed, terrified, and confused, I unsheathed my claws.

I heard a yell which terrified me even more. My eyes turned toward Logan. His arms were bleeding where my claws had impaled. Another emotion built up in my mind, and it was even worse than the panic.

It was hatred.

I looked at Logan, my soul torn in two. The hatred was building. One part screamed at me: Attack him! He's what's causing this panic! The other screamed back: You love him! Don't do this! I felt confused, angry, like I was going to throw up. My eyes were blurring as they darted. I felt his rough hand grab my wrist. I snapped.

Immediatly, through all this confusion in my mind, my instincts took over. My right arm plunged its claws into his shoulder. The other grabbed the tree to pull myself up as quickly as possible. I looked down in terror at Logan, blood streaming out of the gash I had made. What was I doing! What had I done?!

The unexplainable anger was still there, but seeing Logan in pain like that had brought me back to my senses. My breath caught in my throat as I swerved around and ran. I had to get out of here. I had to.


	11. Resolute

I'm soooooo sorry I couldn't update for so long! I really hope you haven't lost interest in the story. As always, read and review!

* * *

I ripped through the lush foliage, my chest being peirced with two kinds of hatred. A hatred for Logan, which I couldn't understand. And a hatred for myself, for what I'd done to him. I felt my foot grab on to a creeper, and I flew faced down in the dirt. Sobs ripped out my chest, acid tears running down my cheeks. 

It took alot to make me cry.

Only a few seconds after I'd tripped, I felt a hand lightly press on my shoulder. Logan. The hatred for him had dissolved out of my body by now, leaving me weak. But the trace, the memory, of it...made me sick. I shakily pulled myself up, avoiding the smoldering eyes that had put me in a state of hypnosis earlier. I glanced at the spot on his shoulder where my claws had impaled him. The healing factor had grafted the skin together seamlessly.

The walk that took us back to the mansion was a blur, as I had been too enveloped in self-hatred to take in any of the scenery. I was only vaguely aware of Logan's hand on my shoulder. But I wasn't too enveloped to notice he hadn't put it around my waist. I slipped silently through the corriders to the dorm I'd been sleeping in. Xavier would know of what happend soon enough, in fact, he probably already did. For some reason, I didn't want him to know. Perhaps it was shame, after all...I'd been completely in a nirvana of love and lust, and then... I'd ran him through with my claws. But for whatever reason, all I knew was that the aversion to telepaths was acting up again. Probably because I wasn't really ready for anyone, not even Logan himself to know what I felt.

I sat there, lying on my bed in the small dorm. Hating myself. I wanted to get away, but not because of freedom this time. This time, it was...I didn't know what it was. Shame, hatred, even anger. Either way, I realized with an intense burst of emotion that, that, that I couldn't do that again. Go through it again. I couldn't hate Logan.

I pulled myself up again, my mind resolute. Running away wasn't the best choice, but I couldn't hurt Logan. It was like I couldn't control myself when I had hurt him. I couldn't risk it, losing control again and...doing something I would regret.

What obstacles would I have? Magneto trying to capture me or kill me or whatever it was he wanted? Let him. I didn't really care what would happen. Would someone try to stop me from leaving? I'd like to see them try. What if I met up with Creed, the disgusting mutant called Sabretooth? I almost wanted to meet him, just to hurt something.

I hurled my few possessions into a bag. I pulled on the tennis shoes I always wore. I pulled my long, tangled hair into a pony tail. I took a deep breath, taking in the last few glimpses of the room I'd possibly ever see.

Once I'd stored a mental photo of this room to memory, I turned toward the door. But a glint of something caught my eye. I stopped and placed the bag on the floor, walking silently toward the dresser. The only thing left on the bare wooden surface, I realized with surprise, was the dogtags I'd worn as an ankle bracelet. I picked them up carefully, remembering the first time in the bar, when I'd met Logan. He'd stared at the tags instead of my chest.

I held them up, running two fingers over the cold metal, memorizing the indents on the surface. I read the single word it held, with the same curiosity I'd always had when wondering about what it meant. In bold, Caps letters, it read:

COUGAR

It was followed by a random series of numbers, but I'd never truly cared what they were. It was the Cougar that mystified me. Delicately, I slipped the tags onto my ankle, feeling the cool metal against my skin. I felt whole. Or almost whole.

Retagged, I pulled up the bag that held my things and slipped silently out the door. I managed to glide through the labrynth of hallways without meeting anyone, and finally came to the large oak double doors that led to the back entrance. I turned back to the school almost longingly. I had to admit...this place was the safest place I'd ever stayed. It almost felt like a home. But, I realized with a jolt, I didn't have a home.

I whirled around and started through the doors, watching the road in front of me. Moonlight glinted off the asphalt of the slim highway. I would have preffered to ride on the motorcycle, but a bike would make too much noise. I gazed into the distance, my mind wandering what I would meet, where I would go. It was an unsure question, but I'd answer it soon enough. With a burst of resolution, I started forward into the night.

Goodbye Logan.

* * *

Sorry that was short, but I need to post a chapter quickly. I hope you like it, and I hope we get our new computer soon. So read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men (I didn't even know we had to have a disclaimer before, so this applies to all the other chapters without one!)


	12. Destroyed

**Chapter 12 (Finally!)**

Rough granite crunched under my feet as I walked along the unfamiliar highway. It had been hours since I'd left.

Pretty much, at this point, I shouldhave been wondering why Ihadn't met up with anyone yet. It seemed like Icouldn't get five inches out ofthe school grounds without Magneto or one ofhis little henchmen showing up.Of course, usually after they showed up, Logan showed up.

And that was the last thing I wanted right now.

But right now, what I really wanted was to take a rest. My eyes were burning with tiredness, and the sack with my stuff in ithad a strap that was cutting into my shoulder. I swear, I was about to drop dead. I leaned on to the straight wall of rock that followed the highway, one that had been cut into a small mountain. I allowed my eyes to droop shut for a few seconds. No way was I going to go to sleep, but a break from walking couldn't hurt.

I slumped down against the rocks a little. Sleep was really starting to overtake me. I felt my bag slip off my shoulder. I leaned back a little more, my mind starting to drift into unconciousness...

And immediatly I knew someone was there.

I could just sense her, that disgusting, reptilian scent, just beyond the guard rails, hidden in shadows. In my mind, I snapped wide awake. But I acted asleep, seeing as how the element of surprise was pretty much my best weapon. So this was why I wasn't attacked? They were letting me tire myself out. Oh, great going Adrian. You've basically handed yourself to them on a platter.

Mystique slowly slithered around the boundaries of her shadows. Slowly, slowly, slowly...and shot straight out like an arrow.

I was ready for her.

My right arm swung out as three sharp claws glinted in the moonlight. Mystique was caught off guard, but apparent she knew my style by now, missing my claws by a fraction of an inch. But she lost her lithe balance. One leg was twisted when she dodged my arm, and her other leg tripped on it. She skidded to the ground.

I took my chance. My arms flew out in front of me as I threw myself on top of her. I was in killing mode now. I could almost smell the coppery scent of blood on her shimmering blue scales. My claws almost made contact with her stomach...

And an invisible barrier threw me the other way.

My face landed against the wall of rock, shredding my cheek. But I didn't care. 

I had been ready for the kill, completely engrossed in a violent stupor. I'd been ready to take out all my anger, frustration, shame, and confusion on Mystique. And then Magneto stopped that. That wasn't something I could handle. The blast of anger seared the back of my mind.

I felt my body turn over, facing the road. Magneto was just barely visible, one hand raised strongly. I could see Mystique following behind. I couldn't see Creed, but that dead scent of his was burning my nose.

Magneto's form slowly became more visible. He was wearing the same gray uniform-like outfit he seemed to always wear. His face was hard and fierce. But noticing his face made me realize something else.

His helmet was off, tucked under one arm.

Suddenly, the blast of anger heated up again. I don't know why it did. Maybe just an instinct, becoming angry when I saw Magneto. 

His eyes were a mix of fury and determination, as if he had something he was going to do and had to do now. His jaw was set and his hand hard and steady. 

"You." he said silently. "You have no idea. Xavier was a fool, keeping up the charade. He knew the truth about you, and still hoped the Wolverine would figure out the past by himself. Perhaps figure it out for the both of you. You were a danger to hundreds, thousands possibly. He knew he was taking a risk for the safety of the school simply harboring you in it. They could have found the school!"

I glared at him. I had only a faint idea of what he was saying, but the anger building up in my mind was overwhelming. My hand started to shake...it was like power, fueled by my anger,was coursing through it...straight through to the bushes by the rail guards...and one of them shook. This took me by slight surprise.

Almost if by instinct, I mentally drained some of that anger through my arm to the bush again. It shook more violently this time. Then, something clicked. The last time I'd met up with Magneto...I'd felt anger...and it was like a bomb went off. And I, I realized, could have caused it.

That bit of logic seemed to quell my anger, which, to tell the truth, scared me. If I was going to escape this, I was going to need as much emotional fury as possible. I reached into the crevices of my mind, trying to find something that enraged me. Magneto stopping my kill...Creed attacking and trashing my old bike...and Logan. Logan, in that eagle-spread position, writhing in pain I could only imagine. And that imagining is what did it.

It was like I snapped. In a second, my body seemed to shoot out power. The rail guard twisted and flew, the asphalt cracked, the rock wall shuddered violently, and the figures of Magneto and Mystique went flying.

I felt the power restraining me break immediatly. I thrust my body forward, my rage like dynamite about to explode. I felt more and more power drain out of my body in a violent rush...until I was actually feeling weak.

My mind slowly cleared up. My limbs felt weaker. But I felt better than I ever had before, at least in spirit. I started to stagger forward...got my balance. I looked over to the figures of Magneto and Mystique. Mystique seemed completely unconscious. Magneto seemed like he was using all of his strength to lift himself up.

He looked at me, his eyes determined.

"If you go, you are-" he seemed to have a slight convulsion, but continued with all his might."You are going to destroy...everything. You could track the Wolverine. Striker will not hesitate in finding the school through you."

I watched him, silently and confused. His head fell slowly. His hands stopped moving, and his body rested, giving into unconsciousness.

* * *

Logan stepped up to the dorm door. Something seemed different. He couldn't truly see what it was. 

He opened the door, expecting to see Adrian's slim figure sprawled on the bed. She wouldn't take too kindly to being woken up, but-

She was gone.

He went rigid. She didn't leave. She wouldn't. Especially after that last attack. And...wouldn't Xavier call them if she did?... He relaxed. Of course.

He still went to Xavier's office. Checking...wouldn't hurt. He strode to the office, and opened onelarge door. Silently, bathed in strips of light from the window, Xavier was sitting, faced away from Logan.

"So you've found out." he said silently. It was a statement, not a question. "Yes. She has gone...again. And this time, Logan...I'm afraid she can't be simply picked up and rescued. I knew...knew I should have done something when Magneto opened his mind to me."

Logan went rigid again. This was serious, he knew by Xaviers tone.

"Logan..." Xavier started, then sighed silently. "Logan there's something you need to know. Something about a man. Named William Striker."


	13. Plan

Chapter 13 (!)

Logan layed back on the bed in his dorm. So this,_ this_, was the truth. It was a mix of different emotions to know it. Of course there was a fierce fear and protectiveness for Adrian. But mostly it was anger. He knew there was one more thing, _one tiny detail_, Xavier was holding back. He'd been told of Striker, Adamantium, and Alkali Lake. He had been told of the past both he and Adrian shared, almost making her more of his because of their same origin. But there was something else, he was _sure_ of it.

It was bad enough knowing this, but having Magneto staying at the mansion's hospital unit, forever talking and planning with Xavier, (about what he had no clue), was almost too much to handle. The only consolation was the fact that he and his cronies were injured. He almost smiled at the thought of it. They had noidea what Adrian had done, but whatever it was had beat up them pretty badly. She'd really done a number on them. Magneto was barely talking, Mystique was still out cold, and they hadn't even found Creed yet.

A slight knock on the door brought him back to his senses. He got up and stretched before opening it.

Storm stood, a worried expression on her face. She breathed in deeply before looking up at him.

"Xavier and..._Magneto _want everyone in the medical unit. They...want to talk. About what we'll do." She seemed a bit shaky, but Logan realized it was probably caused less by the touchy subject of Adrian, and more by disgust for Magneto.

They walked together to the med lab were Jean, Cyclops, and Xavier were circled around one bed were Magneto was laying. Their eyes rose to meet Logan, but Magneto's were the most intrigued. It was like Magneto was examining Logan, right down to the core of his soul, if he still had one after the 'operation', that is.

They stood in silence for a minute before Logan looked up, his jaw set.

"So what's the plan?"

* * *

I stretched as I got off the soft grass. Some sleep, a little food I'd payed for with the little money in my wallet, plus the satisfaction I'd gotten from crushing Magneto had re-energized me. I felt like I could run five marathons and not break a sweat. I breathed in the forest air. It was snowing lightly, adding a nice sort of chill to the air.

I kept on walking, debating with myself over "borrowing" a bike. Maybe Xavier's School had knocked some morals into me. Before I'd been through this whole mess, I could have stolen a bike no problem. I kept on going, just enjoying myself. It wasn't really that bad being gone, if you put aside those two parts in my mind that eternally tortured me with thoughts of Logan; the one part that wanted to be with him in soul, and the other part that wanted to be with himin bed. Or the clearing back at the school, that would have worked out nicely.

I walked for about five hours before deciding to lay down again. I was really starting to beat myself up over leaving my bag of stuff back at where I'd pretty much killed those two. Maybe three if Creed had still been there when I'd done...whatever it was that I'd done.

I layed there a little bit. Before I started to notice the scent. It smelled like sterilizing alcohol and tobacco. Maybe rubber glove too. It was far away, and mingled with other scents, so I didn't really notice it too much. But it just seemed so familiar. Maybe it was because of the constant tug it put on my mind that I stupidly blocked it out.

Which was why I never noticed it getting too close for comfort. And why I never saw it coming when I was suddenly shot with a tranqulizer.

I'd only opened my eyes long enough to register two things. One was a large van, the scent of a hospital eminating from it, along with dozens of men getting out of it. The other was a portly man with blondish hair and a southern accent, that I only recognized because of the four words he said.

"We've got her back."


	14. Resigned

Chapter 14

Logan looked aroung the circle of people silently.

"So you think she's at Alkali."

Xavier sighed. "Not think. Know. Striker, for _whatever_ reason, seems to be after her, and is willing to risk anything to get to her." Logan distrusted that '_whatever'_ for some reason. Because to Logan, it seemed to him that Xavier seemed to know the reason.

Magneto sat up. 

" And it seems that the only way to get her back is to simply...go to the base. She hasn't been gone long. Striker wouldn't have been able to do anything too serious..." 

He exchanged a look with Xavier. "Of course it won't be easy getting in the base. Striker isn't too much in the president's favor, what with more mutant exeptance around the country. He won't have the men or money he used to have. But that doesn't mean he's completely alone. There will be people guarding and ready to fight. And it won't be easy."

Logan watched Magneto and Xavier in silence.

"But you have a plan." he said.

Magneto met his eyes, the still intrigued look on his face.

"Of course."

* * *

I groaned. 

Wherever I was, it was cold. I could smell metal, more sterilizing alcohol, a little bit of peroxide. There were some unfamiliar scents too, but they carried with them the unmistakable aroma of a hospital. 

Every part of me seemed to ache. It was like all of my limbs wanted to fall off at the same time. Still, I couldn't just lay here. Shakily, I lifted my head off the ground. I felt a stab of pain at moving, but not moving seemed worse. My eyes adjusteda little to the dim light.

Four walls, each cushioned with cloth, surrounded me. It was like in movies, when you see a room in an asylum. The ground, however, was hard cement. Kind of defeating the purpose of padding, if you thought about it.

"She's awake."

I froze. The voice that had said it echoed slightly, like on a megaphone or speaker system. I was sure it was a speaker system. It had sounded rough and scratchy. I looked up, my eyes still having trouble adjusting to the dimness of the room.

Above me, there was a square of light. It was small, but it was there, high up on the wall. A figure, a black sillhoutte, stood in the small light square. A window.

"Well, we thought we'd find you." the manspeaking seemed to have that southern accent I remembered from when I blanked out. "Of course, we also thought you'd have our little project with you," there was a humorless chuckle. "But at least now we know where he is."

I looked up, propped up on one elbow, ignoring the biting pain in my arm. What was he talking about? I tried to listen closer, even if the booming speaker system meant I didn't have to. There was another chuckle.

"My dear, when we made you, we thought you'd find our Wolverine a little quicker." He seemed to shake his head. "Took you long enough. Fourteen years..." His voice seem to waver as the speaker system crackled. 

My mind was stuck though. He'd said I would find...the Wolverine. Logan? And what was he talking about, making me? Was this guy my dad or something? Yeah, right.

"Of course, we knew you'd need your time. We knew your tracking powers could, and would, find him. After all. We gave them to you."

I froze. My tracking powers...I looked around. This was getting to much. I struggled to get up, but my aching body shrieked in protest. I looked up at the square of light. There was a small chuckle coming from the speaker.

"You don't remember, do you? Of course." there was a pause. "You didn't think that you were simply born with those marvelous claws, did you?" there was another chuckle. "We- no _I_ gave them to you. A revolutionary invention. Pure adamantium. Indestructible."

He seemed to pause again, lost in thought. But that was alright with me. I was long gone. So this really is where I was from? A...hospital. I don't know why, but from nowhere I cried out;

"But how could you give me my tracking power!"

I immediatly felt stupid and angry. But still, it was a question that needed to be answered. At least to me it was. I looked up again. The window was so high up that I doubted he had heard me. But he had.

"My dear, you seem to underestimate the power of science and government funding. DNA is easily changed, mutant genes capable of being copied. Your instincts wereyours. But we managed to give you an ability to track." he paused once again. 

"After all, we needed someone to find our Wolverine. That operation was costly, and his powers rare. To let our project simply escape...it would be madness. 

"So why not make another to find him? Someone that could not only find him, but bring him back? And while we were at it, why not try another innovation; we hadn't done the operation on a female. At least not then." He smiled at some joke that only he seemed to know.

"So, my dear, we created you. And to make sure you were finding our Wolverine, a little more DNA tampering was needed. Make his scent attract you. And we could do it too, with what little of his DNA we had left. And we changed you to be attractive to him. There; you were both more likely to find each other. And we would have our Wolverine back. Plus, a new Cougar."

So this was it. Logan and I weren't a match made in heaven. Or the bar were we met. We were a match made in a lab.

Suddenly, I was caught off guard. Again. He'd said Cougar. And Logan...Logan was the Wolverine. So I...I was...Cougar? I glanced down at my ankle. My tags were gone. I looked up at the window.He chuckled again, and I saw his sillhoutte hold up two slivers of black against the light. My tags.

It was like that one action affirmed the idea that had formed in my mind. I wasn't human. Or even a mutant. I was an invention. 

And for that one moment, I was resigned.


	15. The Condensed Ending

**Chapter 10**

Ok, sorry guys. I can't finish, our computer's still broken. But, I can give you the ending at least.

* * *

When Adrian wakes up, she findsherself outside in the snow. She can't remember anything that might have happened in the last few days, but she notices a small sliver of a scar on her side. She starts out for the X-Mansion, but remembers Logan, and heads the other way.

Back at the mansion, Xavier and the other mutants are ready to head out toward Alkali Base. They go in the jet and get there pretty quickly. They land far away, but not so far away thatStriker's men don't notice them. They're swamped with Striker's army in almost no time.

Adrian, though, isn't so far away that she doesn't hear the fighting. She turns around, and when she can tell that the mutants are about to lose, she heads back, unable to just leave Logan.

She enters the fight, and her newfound ability to channel emotion into destructive power helps her barrel her way to them. When she sees that Logan is not with the rest of the group, she immediatly searches for him.

She finds him not too far away from the rest of the group, cornered by a large horde of Striker's men. She starts to fight them, but as soon as she gets too close to Logan, it's like she goes into kill-mode. She wipes out the troop of soldiers, and starts attacking Logan. Inside her mind she's screaming at herself to stop, but she's on auto-pilot now, and soon she remembers bits and fragments of the last few days. She now knows the scar was from another operation. She's now programmed to kill the Wolverine.

She does everything she can but it's useless. She's quicker than Logan, which means that she has a big advantage on him. Just as she's about to go for the kill, she does the last thing she can think of to stop herself: she uses her emotion channeling powers to move the ground under her feet. She immediatly falls, and Logan has the advantage.

Of course, even though she was about to kill him, he would never kill her. But lucky for him, that one fall knocked her senses back into her. She doesn't attack again. 

Logan lifts her up. But he doesn't know about the decision she'd secretly made to herself. She knows she can't just run, and she knows she's programmed to kill him, something she would never do.

So she decides to protect him by killing herself.

First though, she wanted one last taste of him. They kiss, but when he releases her, she commits her act of suicide too quickly for him to stop her. She plunges her claws into her stomach, and rips her vital organs so she'll die.

The mutants manage to escape with nothing but their lives and Adrians body. Logan doesn't say a word.

In the next scene, Logan is in his dorm, packing his things. Outside his window, a small funeral is being held, but he doesn't go. He hears a knock on the door, and it's Storm. She tells him Xavier wants him in his office. Reluctantly, Logan goes. 

In the office, Xavier reveals about Cougar, who was created by Striker to track him and bring him back to Alkali Base. Logan is about to leave, but Xavier tells him one more thing. Though it is only a theory, Xavier believes that Adrian's emotional channeling was actually sending parts of herself. Because this happened at moments of extreme emotion, and suicide was a strong emotion, she might have sent her entire entity out. If this emotional entity was sent into an inanimate object, it would result in an explosion. But if it had been sent into a human, she could still be alive, the same person in a different body.

Logan, with this tiny glimmer of hope, sets out.

The last scene takes place in a small town in West Virginia. Slowly awakening, Adrian looks around, confused. She wonders what had happened, as she thought she'd killed herself. Could it all have been a dream?

But she knows it wasn't a dream when she looks in a mirror. Because instead of seeing herself, she sees a woman with olive skin and black hair. Someone else. She's confused, and a bit scared. So she does the only thing she knows how: She runs.

The last part is Adrian, leaving for whatever awaited her, trying to figure out what happened. But whatever it was, she was sure it wasn't a dream.

Because she knows she's in love.

* * *

I'm soooo sorry I couldn't finish guys. I really hope you'll forgive me:)

As always, please Read and Review! I really do want to know what you think of the story!

So, thanks again for sticking with the story even when I couldn't update! I really apreciate all of you readers!

Bye:)


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